The Crowned Prince left him with a promise to see him at the morning assembly, just two hours away. It seemed unnecessary since Mingjiang saw him at assembly every day regardless, but he'd simply gritted his teeth and agreed politely.
Left alone, Mingjiang gently folded up the ruined parchment to pocket. He put the books back on the shelves and left the library. He would worry about the flooding later.
His steps quickened as he got closer to his residence inside the palace, a small room with only the simplest to adorn it. he knelt carefully at the foot of his bed, pulling out a small wooden box, locked with a complicated-looking lock. He spun it into the shape of a lion's mane, then inserted a key into the underside of the lock. It sprung open silently, revealing scrolls of careful documentation. Every moment Mingjiang spent in the presence of the royal family, whether it was morning assembly or chance encounters, was carefully noted and categorized with the rope tying the scrolls together.
Mingjiang placed the box on the table, and placed a fresh piece of parchment down. Mingjiang looked lightly over to his closed door as he ground more ink for the paintbrush. There were a few passing whispers outside of the door, gossip from the servant girls came and went quite quickly, but Mingjiang couldn't relax regardless. He was tense as he dipped his brush into the ink.
The scrolls were more for Huimo's analysis than it was for him- Mingjiang's childhood didn't cover social etiquette as much as Huimo's did, huddled inside his family's private library to pour over every book they had available. No one had ever thought that Mingjiang would become a warrior despite his family's warrior clan history, as he was the runt of the four children, fragile even compared to his younger sister. He would be the second in the family to take on a scholarly position serving the emperor, instead of becoming a sword.
That meant, outside of literature classes with a renowned teacher, Mingjiang was distant from the children of other noble families, except for Qixing and Huimo. He seldom spoke to them, even in class. The day that Mingjiang had come home with Wen Huimo, the descendant of a long line of generals, his family had been surprised. Even Mingjiang had been startled, to say the least. After all, what would a future general want from a weak bookworm like Mingjiang?
His younger self had never been able to grasp it, but the Mingjiang now knew and understood. He finished taking down his notes, waiting impatiently for the ink to dry down before he rolled up the parchment and placed it in the wooden box, locked it, and placed it back under his bed. Wen Huimo wasn't all brawn, but he certainly wasn't all brains either. That was Mingjiang's job. He was Wen Huimo's mind back at the capital, sealed deep into the royal palace, unable to step too far away but with no way for anyone to stop him from simply listening.
Mingjiang filed into the morning assembly with some of the other scholars, the grooves of his fingers dyed black from the ink. He stood behind three lines of experienced advisors, all of which had grown wrinkled over their decades. The Crowned was stationed the closest to the throne, having changed into something more ceremonial. Mingjiang fought to stare ahead, pretending not to feel or see the crown prince's heavy stare boring into his skull.
What did he want from Mingjiang, anyway? He'd agreed to take a report to him, and Mingjiang had humored him as a subordinate should. A scholar shouldn't be interesting to a crowned prince, right? Maybe he should go pay a visit to Huimo's older brother, since Qixing wouldn't be in town for another two weeks, stuck on a business trip with her father.
The first part of the morning assembly went on per usual, the minister presenting updates and a ruckus among them trying to find the best solution to the problem. Most of the noble's political affairs flew well beyond Mingjiang's basic understanding- he built his knowledge around war and domestic affairs, topics Huimo would need an advisor for. Mingjiang said nothing for the duration of the assembly, much like on other days. Why? There was no need for a war advisor when General Huimo was already on the front lines.
Finally, after what felt like too long, the assembly shifted to welcoming the newest scholars into the palace. Palace servants came into the palace to place tables and food in neat orderly rows that all the ministers and scholars stood behind, waiting for the emperor's command.
The large doors of the court palace opened, revealing a hundred new scholars waiting beyond it. In a chorus, they all bowed in unison, "Long live the Emperor!"
Mingjiang his moment in that group, second in the first row. He'd been awarded for his ideas on domestic affairs and been allowed free access to the libraries the palace had to offer. For a few months, the other scholars mumbled amongst themselves that Mingjiang had only received much attention because he was close to the General, who was known to be like another son to the Emperor. They had not much else to say when war broke out five months later, and Mingjiang had been ordered to provide the general with war plans and formations that saved them in bottlenecks.
That war had been going on for three years now. Huimo seldom returned his letters or came back to the palace even though most of the conflict had all but fizzled out with the North. He felt like the only antsy one, watching the news from the west of their borders like a hawk. The Qiu empire had been unhappy with the trade and relationship between the two nations over the last century and their restlessness seemed to seep deeply into their columns of soldiers. The Zhu could not afford another war, but they were also busy with the floods and the war up north to take more than minimum notice.
Mingjiang watched from his seat as the Emperor awarded only a quarter of the new scholars in front of their positions in the palace, far less than Mingjiang's year. The rest would have to find work in local offices, lording over commoners, collecting outrageous taxes, and doing charity work if they were generous.
One of the chosen scholars glanced covertly toward the crowned prince with a small, sly smile and with a jolt, Mingjiang realized who it was- the second son of the Ming family, Ming Haoyuan. He was five years Mingjiang's senior, and four years the Crowned Prince's. Mingjiang had heard he failed miserably on the exam several times, and had given it up to join the army instead a few years before Mingjiang had taken it.
What was he doing here now? Mingjiang believed intelligence wasn't always inherent, but not for Ming Haoyuan. He could memorize a few classics and recite a few obscure poems, but he had nothing else to show for it after years of classes. Ming Haoyuan had not one slightly unique thought. His muscles were bigger than his brain, in fact- he was the most muscular person in the line up bowing in front of the emperor today. If the crowned prince wanted someone, no one would choose Ming Haoyuan to act as an advisor. The Mings were powerful, but not that powerful. Their influence had a long history but they were declining into obscurity, pushed out by far more aggressive families.
Mingjiang clenched his hands into fists under the table, willing himself to not look at the crowned prince, afraid of what kind of doubtful expression would be displayed on his face and mark him a target. As long as Ming Haoyuan didn't get in his way, there was no need to pursue things too quickly. He had time to prove his suspicions weren't just suspicions.