“Your Majesty, I impeach John Brooks for failing to properly teach his son, whose abuse of power has led him to bully and oppress good people…”

Upon hearing Richard Grant’s words, John Brooks glared at him and shouted.

“My son injured my sixth son, and yet you dare accuse Brooks of failing to teach his child properly?”

“My son has always been obedient and well-mannered. Just over a month ago, he suffered a serious illness and has only just recovered.

Moreover, he is still very young, a sensible child—how could he possibly have hit your sixth son?”

“My sixth son has always been refined and proper…”

James Carter sat behind the imperial desk, utterly bewildered. Wasn’t Mr. Grant’s only son the very boy he’d seen crawling out from under Grace Thompson’s bed?

And he actually beat up Mr. Brooks’s sixth son twice in a row? Is that even possible?

William Grant, who spoke so gently and was quite likable, had delicate features, rosy lips, white teeth, and always smiled before speaking—truly a polite child.

He didn’t look the least bit like a violent person. Could there be some misunderstanding here?

Off to the side, Henry Young saw that John Brooks and Grand Commandant Grant, both favorites of the emperor, were already red-faced and arguing heatedly.

Yet the emperor himself seemed lost in thought, daydreaming.

Henry Young rubbed his face in exasperation, quickly moved closer to James Carter, and quietly reminded him.

Snapping back to attention, James Carter finally noticed that his two favored ministers were nearly nose-to-nose, faces flushed with anger, and hurriedly called out to stop them.

“…Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, both of you, stop!”

Both John Brooks and Richard Grant knew full well that their current positions depended entirely on the emperor’s favor, so of course they wouldn’t embarrass him.

In perfect unison, they immediately ceased their argument and bowed deeply to James Carter to apologize.

…

After a round of smoothing things over, John Brooks and Richard Grant respectfully saluted and withdrew from the Hall of Audience.

James Carter stroked his short beard, falling into deep thought. In this matter, both John Brooks and Richard Grant had compelling arguments, making it truly difficult for him to judge.

Yet these two ministers—one highly accomplished in both governance and calligraphy, the other the greatest ball player in the land and utterly loyal—were both pillars of his court.

He couldn’t possibly rebuke them over a minor squabble between their children and risk damaging the bond between ruler and subject.

After watching the two senior officials depart, Henry Young saw the emperor leaning on the imperial desk.

His fingers gently traced the surface, his gaze unfocused, clearly lost in thought again…

After a long wait, the emperor finally spoke slowly.

“Interesting. It seems I should meet Mr. Grant’s only son, William Grant, and see what the boy has to say…”

At this, hearing the emperor’s pause, Henry Young immediately played along.

“Your Majesty is wise. With your keen insight, you will surely discern right from wrong and separate truth from falsehood…”

Hearing Henry Young’s words, the Son of Heaven of the Song Dynasty, James Carter, couldn’t help but smile, gently stroking his short beard as he rose gracefully to his feet.

“A few days ago, I listened to the Daoist priest at Yuqing Zhaoying Palace expound on the scriptures—it was quite fascinating.

Court is dismissed early today. Come, let’s take a walk.”

“Please slow down, Your Majesty. This humble servant will lead the way…” Henry Young hurried ahead.

Seeing the emperor walking and chatting with Mr. Young, several younger eunuchs looked on with envy, jealousy, and resentment.

They wished their own tongues could be as skillful as Mr. Young’s, so as to win the emperor’s favor.

…

The imperial steed bestowed upon Richard Grant finally came to a halt with heavy hooves in front of his residence.

He dismounted, leaving the reins and whip to his attendants, and headed straight into the mansion.

He had barely taken a few steps when he saw his wife, Harris, pacing anxiously at the entrance to the main hall.

“My lady, what are you doing here? Where is Mark?”

“Mark is in his own courtyard. Husband, did that Prime Minister Brooks give you any trouble today?”

Harris looked Richard Grant up and down, asking with concern.

“He wanted to, but the emperor intervened.”

At this, Richard Grant’s expression turned a bit odd.

“The emperor bestowed a hundred bolts of silk each to me and John Brooks.”

“…That’s it?” Harris stared at her husband in confusion, completely baffled.

“Yes, that’s it…” Richard Grant nodded, shaking his head helplessly.

“I have no idea what the emperor is thinking. He didn’t take sides, just gave us silk and told me and Prime Minister Brooks to discipline our children.”

The emperor’s way of handling things—if even I can’t figure it out, that shrewd Prime Minister Brooks probably can’t either… right?

Chapter Five: Do You Need to Check the Imperial Almanac Before Going Out?

Striding into the Brooks Residence, Grand Chancellor Brooks still wore a deep frown. He had been pondering the whole way, but still couldn’t make sense of it.

In terms of imperial favor, as the chief minister of the Song Dynasty, he naturally outranked that ball-playing Richard Grant by far.

Yet today, the emperor was so perfunctory—could there be something fishy going on?

“Prime Minister is back! Sixth Young Master, Prime Minister has returned…”

At this shout, David Brooks, who had been lying in bed groaning, his face bruised and pitiful, suddenly brightened.

He jumped out of bed and dashed outside. In no time, he saw his father, John Brooks, sitting in the main hall, stroking his beard in deep thought.

“Father!”