Xu Xie was an old hand.
For years, he had kept his position at Shen Tang's side secure thanks entirely to that sharp, perceptive mind of his. He couldn't read minds like Gu Chi, but experience let him figure out Shen Tang's thoughts with reasonable accuracy. When Shen Tang told him to do something, he did it with all his might, without giving a damn about anyone else's expression. He knew Shen Tang was his biggest backer. And if Shen Tang told him not to do something, he wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole.
Only by being obedient and knowing how to read the room could you hope to follow along and get your share of the meat and broth.
Those who didn't know the full story might think Xu Xie was far too obsequious. He was a scholar, after all. How could he bend the knee to the powerful, represented by Shen Tang? Quite a few scholars criticized him over it, accusing him of currying favor with the powerful and fawning on the influential. He wasn't very popular among the upright, principled circles of scholars. Xu Xie didn't care in the slightest. He even found it laughable.
He'd even dare to swear—
Those upright scholars weren't the main branches of their families.
If they'd ever worried over the future of an entire clan, spent their days wracking their brains, been worn down by the cost of food and daily necessities, or climbed to a certain height in officialdom, they'd never say such things. Only after repeatedly hitting dead ends in the workplace could you understand how fortunate it was to have a boss like Lord Shen. In Xu Xie's eyes, Shen Tang was an ATM machine: however much work you did, she'd spit out every coin of your