Chapter 208: Resignation Turmoil

Chapter 208: The Resignation Storm

As soon as court was over, Cheng Ge locked himself in his study, pondering how to make his second resignation letter even more heartfelt and moving.

Cheng Ge once again spread out a piece of letter paper, dipped his brush in ink, and began to write—

This time, his choice of words was even more earnest; he cited classics and scriptures, belittling himself further than before.

First, he expressed gratitude for the emperor's boundless grace in bestowing such a precious gift, which made him even more ashamed and mortified.

Then he spoke of his own talent and virtue being truly unworthy of His Majesty's trust, and that recently he had felt chronic illnesses flaring up, leaving him even more depleted in spirit.

When handling official duties, he often felt inadequate, deeply fearing that his own shortcomings would delay critical state affairs—a crime a thousand deaths couldn't atone for.

Finally, he reiterated that this was by no means pretense, but came from a place of pure sincerity, for the sake of the sovereign and the state.

He begged His Majesty to take pity on his foolish devotion and permit him to retire to seclusion, so that men of virtue might assume their proper posts. Then the state would be most fortunate, and even if he became a commoner, he would remember the imperial grace even in the afterlife.

Every word was written with bloody tears, every sentence was sincere—a model plea for retirement.

After submitting the second resignation letter, Cheng Ge watched from the sidelines.

Indeed, His Majesty's reply came even more quickly this time; the content was still a rejection, but the tone seemed somewhat harsher.

He rebuked him for being unduly self-deprecating, stating that the court was in need of talent and ordering him to focus on his duties.

Soon after, a second wave of rewards arrived—

This time it was no longer just incense, but also rare medicinal herbs meticulously prepared by the imperial pharmacy, clearly intended for Cheng Ge to treat his chronic ailments.

The news quickly spread among his colleagues, and when they came to offer their regards, their tone carried a subtle hint of envy.

"The emperor holds Censor Cheng in high regard! His Majesty's repeated retention is truly a rare honor!"

"Old Cheng, why insist on retiring? With His Majesty's trust, this is precisely the time to strive and achieve!"

Cheng Ge: "..."

Zhou Mingqi's imperial mind games were truly played to perfection.

If it had been an ordinary minister, at this point they would have known when to stop and keep serving His Majesty, shedding tears of gratitude to the very end.

But was Cheng Ge the kind of person to give up so easily?

He knew that this performance still lacked one final step—the most crucial one.

He began to build up his emotions, preparing to write the third, and final, resignation letter.

This time, he needed to show even stronger determination, even a sense of tragedy that if His Majesty did not approve, he would kneel at the palace gates and never rise, pushing the classic ritual of thrice asking and thrice being held back to its climax.

The sovereign and the minister, playing a game of chess across the distance, tacitly performing this age-old ritual that had remained unchanged for millennia.

However, just when Cheng Ge thought he was about to escape his misery, that damn emperor actually shelved his memorial.

Cheng Ge: "???"

Why isn't this guy following the script? Cheng Ge let out a heavy sigh.

He wondered if Zhou Mingqi cared more about ceremonial fuss than other emperors.

No, he had to persevere!

The next day, poor Zhou Mingqi received another resignation letter from Cheng Ge, like a girl being pestered by a creep.

This time, the wording was even more earnest, the logic more self-consistent, painting himself as utterly worthless.

As if staying in court for even a moment longer would be a blasphemy against His Majesty and a crime against the imperial court.

The 'just let me go already' give-up energy between the lines was almost bursting through the paper.

Zhou Mingqi glanced at it, his chest tightening unbearably, and simply chucked it aside, again leaving it unanswered.

After that, Cheng Ge seemed to have found a new daily routine; although he no longer submitted a resignation every day, he would send one every few days.

He came up with all kinds of tactics—sometimes tragic, sometimes self-deprecating, sometimes citing classics to argue for the legitimacy of his resignation.

It so annoyed Zhou Mingqi that every time he saw Cheng Ge's familiar handwriting, his blood pressure seemed to rise.

And the punk wasn't actually wrong about anything, he just used words to gross him out from afar, leaving him with no excuse to blow up.

Of course, this resignation fever also reached the Eastern Palace.

Since the day Cheng Ge rejected him so bluntly, Crown Prince Zhou Zhan had been like his soul had been sucked out.

He was languid for days, couldn't focus on his lessons, couldn't eat a thing, replaying Cheng Ge's final words over and over in his mind.

Before he could recover from this great disappointment and grievance, he was shocked to hear that Cheng Ge had actually volunteered to go to Yuanzhou, such a perilous place.

Zhou Zhan's first reaction was not worry about Yuanzhou, but—does he hate me that much?

To avoid me, he's willing to risk his life? Is Yuanzhou the kind of place you just waltz into?

A rush of urgency, anger, and hurt instantly flooded him, his heart felt like it was being stabbed, stinging and swelling.

He could no longer sit still; he abruptly stood up, set out to confront Cheng Ge and demand answers!

He had to ask him in person—was being around him really that unbearable?

Meanwhile, Cheng Ge had finally gotten through court; his colleagues were leaving in twos and threes, chatting and laughing, but he only felt physically and mentally exhausted.

For several days, his resignation memorials had gotten no response; escape seemed impossible, and the future looked grim.

As he walked out with the crowd, just as he neared the palace gate, Cheng Ge instinctively looked up and glanced ahead—

Cheng Ge: "!!!"

Not far ahead, Crown Prince Zhou Zhan was peering his way.

Cheng Ge instantly felt his scalp crawl, and the crazy scene at the Eastern Palace last time involuntarily flashed through his mind.

Survival instincts kicked in immediately!

In a flash, Cheng Ge quickly whipped his sleeve up to hide his face and ducked down low.

Screw dignity and official decorum, he sprinted off, streaking away like an arrow.

He was lightning fast, zipping past the chatting officials as they walked out.

He only felt a sudden gust of sharp, eerie wind sweep past, chillingly brushing against his clothes, stirring the hair beneath his official hat.

The corner of his eye seemed to catch a fleeting shadow, vanishing so fast it almost felt like an illusion.

An old courtier, who had been stroking his beard and lamenting state affairs with his peers, was startled by the gust, his hand freezing mid-motion.

He looked around warily, lowering his voice to ask the colleague beside him: "...Just now, did something... just go by me?"

His equally bewildered colleague blinked, carefully scanned the slow-moving officials around them, and hesitantly shook his head.

"No, I don't think so? Perhaps it was just a gust of wind. I didn't see anyone."

Hearing this, the old courtier's face paled slightly, and he subconsciously touched his official hat.

In broad daylight... no, it couldn't be... could it?

The more he dwelled on it, the creepier that gust seemed, a chill creeping up his spine.

He decided he must have his wife go to the temple for a protective talisman, or find a master to check if he had offended something...

By this time, Cheng Ge, having pushed his physical limits to the extreme, moved like a wisp of smoke.

He dashed across the long palace corridor at almost a sprint, instantly turning the corner at the palace gate and vanishing without a trace.

Leaving behind the Crown Prince, who was still searching for him, scanning around in vain for a long time.

In the end, he could only clench his fists in disappointment and defeat, unable to understand why he couldn't find Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge, panting heavily, slipped back home, feeling utterly drained both physically and mentally.

At lunch, facing a table full of dishes, he only managed three bowls of rice before setting down his chopsticks.

He slunk back to his room to lie down, listless, not even sparing a second glance at his favorite braised pork.

For several days in a row, he remained dispirited, with a haggard face and dark circles growing darker under his eyes.

Lü Rou saw this and felt a pang of worry; she pulled Funiang aside, a worried expression on her face, to discuss it.

"Funiang, what if our young master continues like this? Cooped up in his room all day, I'm afraid he'll get sick from all this moping around."

Funiang was equally helpless. If the master won't eat, who is she supposed to cook all these good dishes for?