Chapter 39: Standing Up for Him, Meeting Zhang Yi Again

There was more than one painting laid out before the emperor. Each depicted different scenes—a young Taoist conversing delightedly with a young woman; the same young Taoist peering over a wall into a courtyard; whispering conspiratorially with another Taoist; and sitting face-to-face with a matronly woman.

Had Zhang Yi been present, he would have immediately recognized himself as the Taoist in each image. These paintings captured his every move within the Chang household.

Zhu Biao was deeply shaken by what he saw. He had always known his father, Zhu Yuanzhang, placed inspectors in the homes of his officials, but he was unaware that the emperor had also placed people in Chang Yuchun’s household. Judging by the scenes depicted, Zhu Yuanzhang’s network there was certainly not limited to just one spy.

“This boy is remarkable,” Zhu Yuanzhang mused. “I had intended to help him at a critical moment, but who could have guessed he’d manage to so thoroughly baffle everyone in the Chang household on his own! Crown Prince, we both misjudged him. Not only does this child meet immortals in his dreams—he is a talent in his own right! If Lady Chang hadn’t happened to know how to read lips, she might have missed his heartfelt words altogether!”

Admiration shone in the emperor’s eyes. “His analysis of Lady Lan’s character is spot on. It matches what your mother has always said—Chang Yuchun is admirable in every way, except for his poor taste in wives! As for that son of his, Chang Mao, if I weren’t worried about chilling Yuchun’s heart, I’d have dealt with that scoundrel a long time ago!”

Zhu Yuanzhang was well aware of Chang Mao’s debauchery, though it hadn’t concerned him much before. But after glimpsing the future through Zhang Yi’s eyes, in which that wretch would one day become a duke of the Ming dynasty, it was clear that unless Chang Yuchun’s fate changed, not even the emperor himself could prevent it.

If Chang Yuchun were to die, and Chang Mao had committed no grave offenses, Zhu Yuanzhang would have no choice but to let the legitimate eldest son inherit everything, however much he disliked it. As a result, the more he looked at Chang Mao now, the less he liked him.

“Father, it’s clear now that our Zhang family brother is far more than just a child blessed by immortals,” Zhu Biao said. “I grew up around Lady Lan, and even I never saw her so clearly. Sometimes, it’s uncanny—he’s only seven or eight, yet speaks with the wisdom of someone who’s weathered decades of life.”

Zhu Yuanzhang nodded in agreement. When conversing with Zhang Yi, it was easy to forget the boy’s age and treat him as a peer. The child possessed a rare, innate charisma.

“I used to think Zhang’s value lay only in the immortal who stood behind him, but now I see he himself is a talent worth cultivating.”

“A child personally mentored by Zhang Daoling must have more than just good fortune,” the emperor replied.

Father and son found their views aligned. Although Zhang Yi’s earlier actions had often seemed supernatural, Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao’s recognition of him had initially been due to his prophetic dreams. Only after the events at the Chang household did they truly appreciate the boy’s own abilities.

Especially his conversation with Deng Zhongxiu, dissecting Lady Lan’s mindset—it had given Zhu Biao goosebumps. Though several years older than Zhang Yi and trained directly by the emperor, Zhu Biao realized he lacked the insight to see through people’s hearts the way the boy could. Zhang Yi’s advice to Deng Zhongxiu, though couched in terms of money-making, was truly a guide to living in the world.

And then, to discover Chang Mao’s murder—this left Zhu Biao utterly stunned. How had he figured it out?

Zhu Biao still could not determine whether Zhang Yi truly saw vengeful spirits, or if he possessed some other uncanny ability.

“That scoundrel Chang Mao,” Zhu Yuanzhang broke in, cutting short the prince’s thoughts. “Last time he rode his horse through the city, I let it slide, but he’s only grown wilder. If not for my concern for Chang Yuchun’s feelings, I’d have punished him severely already. Now he’s gotten so bold as to kill with impunity?”

Their attention turned to the murder itself. In the households of the great, the death of a servant was hardly worth mentioning. Had Zhu Biao not intervened that day, those two servants would likely have been beaten to death by Chang Mao. It was his dislike for Chang Mao that prompted him to step in, thus saving their lives. With the crown prince’s involvement, unless the Chang family had ironclad proof, they would not dare to kill again.

Chang Mao’s actions, however, amounted to a slap in Zhu Biao’s face. Moreover, the very act of murder revealed his lawless nature and lack of self-control. Such a person, if given military command, would be a disaster. Zhang Yi’s prediction of Chang Mao had been right—he truly was useless.

Before, Zhu Yuanzhang had been content to ignore Chang Mao’s misbehavior, as he didn’t care about Chang Yuchun’s family. Now, with Chang Yuchun possibly facing death and Chang Mao poised to inherit the title of Duke, the emperor felt compelled to step in and teach the boy a lesson. Still, with Chang Yuchun away at the front, he had to be mindful of how far to go.

After considering, Zhu Yuanzhang summoned a eunuch to deliver his orders.

“Send one hundred taels of silver to the Chang household, and pass a message to Lady Lan: tell her the well in their courtyard should be filled in...”

The eunuch departed with the order, and Zhu Biao smiled. One hundred taels—the exact sum Lady Lan had given Zhang Yi. With the emperor ordering the well to be filled, the message was clear: nothing that happened in their house would escape imperial notice.

No doubt, once the silver arrived, Chang Mao would be bedridden for at least a month. However much Lady Lan might spoil her son, she could hardly afford to be lenient this time. In his own way, the emperor was avenging Zhang Yi.

Of course, the matter of Chang Mao’s murder would be quietly set aside. It had never been a serious issue, and Zhu Yuanzhang could now let it rest.

“There’s no need to bother with that wastrel any further. Biao’er, have you made the preparations I requested?”

“Father, everything is ready!” Zhu Biao produced a small box and opened it, revealing several medicinal pills sealed in beeswax.

“These are the heart medicine pills developed by Imperial Physician Li and his team. They may just save General Chang’s life!”

“One is the nasal inoculation, the other is the rapid-action heart-relief pill. These two formulas from our Zhang family brother are truly a blessing to the world!” Zhu Biao made sure to credit Zhang Yi, and the emperor understood.

Holding the pills, Zhu Yuanzhang was filled with complicated emotions.

“Send them to the front lines, along with my personal message: tell Chang Yuchun not to push himself so hard. Now, it’s up to Heaven whether he survives! Crown Prince, see to it that the gifts are ready. Tomorrow at first light, we leave the palace.”

Zhu Yuanzhang instructed Zhu Biao, who nodded in reply.

The following morning, father and son once again donned disguises and left the palace, bringing a wagon full of supplies straight to Purity Monastery. Outside the city, the distant outline of the monastery could be seen.

When they arrived, Deng Zhongxiu was already up boiling water.

“Ah, it’s Master Huang! It’s been a while since you last visited!” Upon seeing Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao, Deng Zhongxiu stood and greeted them warmly.

Noticing his bruised and battered face, Zhu Yuanzhang snorted—not at Deng, but at Chang Mao.

“Little Deng, where’s your abbot?”

“He’s busy devising a new kind of latrine. He complains about freezing his backside every time he gets up in the night!”

Deng’s amusing reply made both Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao laugh. The emperor was both exasperated and amused. If Zhang Yi didn’t come up with some new oddity every day, it seemed he felt he was letting himself down.

He glanced at the fire Deng Zhongxiu was tending—the water in the pot already boiling.

“Did that rascal have you boil water?”

“Yes, my junior has drunk only boiled water since he was little. Lately, I’ve taken up the habit myself!”

Deng’s offhand remark reminded Zhu Yuanzhang of something from the previous day’s secret report. Unfortunately, the spy at the time hadn’t known how to read lips, so only caught the gist.

Boiling water?

He was still pondering this when Zhang Yi appeared.

“Uncle Huang, what brings you here?”

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