Chapter 42: I Refuse to Be an Official Dog for the Zhu Family—I'm Simply a Scoundrel

Hearing these words, the smiles on the faces of Zhu and his son froze once more. Was that crow's mouth of Zhang Yi at it again?

Zhu Biao glanced subtly at Zhu Yuanzhang, trying to smooth things over for Zhang Yi.

"Brother Zhang, who doesn't long for fame and honor? A man should set his heart on upholding the will of heaven, securing the people's welfare, continuing the teachings of the sages, and opening the way to peace for all generations. Though I was born humble, I too have a heart to aid the world and save the people... And you see, the present emperor is a ruler for the ages. By following such a sovereign, I believe I can realize my ambitions!"

When Zhu Biao repeated the phrase "a ruler for the ages," old Zhu's tense expression softened. Since Zhang Yi had bestowed that high praise, the emperor had been subtly influenced. This was, without a doubt, the flattery Zhu Yuanzhang found most agreeable.

Seeing the emperor's anger fade, Zhu Biao secretly sighed in relief. This Brother Zhang had many merits, but his mouth was too blunt.

You might think he holds grievances against the emperor, but the praise he gives would make even the emperor himself hesitate to believe it. Yet if you say he thinks well of old Zhu, this lad has thrown more than a few barbed words his way—no, that's not just subtle irony, that's outright provocation.

If it were anyone else, they'd probably have died several deaths by now.

Unfortunately, Zhang Yi seemed entirely oblivious to Zhu Biao's well-meaning rescue.

He grinned and said, "Elder brother, your aspirations are lofty, but poetry and distant dreams are not for people like us. I only care about getting by in the here and now! Those four precepts from Hengqu are for those who wish to become sages, not for ordinary folks like us!"

Zhang Yi could understand Zhu Biao's desire to seek scholarly success. In the hierarchy of scholar, farmer, artisan, and merchant, merchants, though wealthy, ranked lower than even farmers, lacking political respect. It was hardly surprising that the sons of merchants were motivated to pursue official rank.

Not only the children, but even the elders of merchant families would do their utmost to have their offspring study.

The Ming dynasty was riddled with contradictions. Old Zhu, in fact, detested merchants even more than many emperors before him. Yet while he oppressed them politically, he did not close the path of the imperial examinations to their children. Though the special examination had yet to be held, everyone knew it was only a matter of time.

The present emperor seemed unbothered by the prospect of merchant sons entering the civil service, and as a transmigrator, Zhang Yi knew for certain that merchants could indeed sit for the exams.

If Brother Huang had aspirations, Zhang Yi naturally supported him, though he harbored little hope for his prospects. In all his knowledge, there was no illustrious minister named Huang Mu—which meant either his path to scholarly success was fraught, or his career faded into obscurity.

"If everyone thought as you do, who would serve the people of this land?" Old Zhu was hardly pleased by those words and couldn't help but interrupt. "A man should strive to leave his name in history, to be praised for generations. What does a little Daoist like you know?"

He truly could not abide Zhang Yi's attitude. This world was his domain—if no one wanted to be an official, where would he find people to govern?

"You say the present emperor will be a ruler for the ages, and so scholars will surely rally to his cause. If everyone thought as you do, this country would be doomed!"

Zhang Yi, however, was unmoved by Zhu Yuanzhang's speech. He replied, "I offer my heart to the bright moon, but the moon shines only on a ditch!"

"What do you mean?" Zhu Yuanzhang felt his temper rising the longer he conversed with Zhang Yi. Only a few days ago he'd thought the boy a lucky star, but that tongue of his was simply too venomous.

Sure enough, Zhang Yi said, "I mean, even if I wished to serve the people and be loyal to the sovereign, I would still need my own value to be recognized. The present emperor may be a good ruler, but he's certainly not a good employer. As for officials in Great Ming—if you ask me, let whoever wants the job take it. I certainly will not!"

Employer?

Though Zhu Yuanzhang didn't know the term, he could guess Zhang Yi's meaning. His blood boiled again. Did this boy really have to infuriate him every single time?

"What's wrong with the emperor?"

"He's stingy!"

Zhu Biao drew a sharp breath. He was doing his utmost to pull Zhang Yi back from the gates of hell, but even he couldn't stop the boy from courting disaster.

Old Zhu's face twisted with anger, but he forced it down.

"The annual salary of a high official in Great Ming, though not yet standardized, is about eight or nine hundred dan of grain a year, or seventy to eighty per month. Even the lowest ninth rank gets no more than fifty dan per year, or about five per month... What more do they expect to do with this money?"

Old Zhu replied coldly, "Is that not enough? Seventy or eighty dan of grain a month—good farmland yields only one or two dan per acre per year, so nine hundred dan a year is already the income of a landlord with four or five hundred acres. What more could they want?"

"Even a ninth-rank official gets five dan a month—is that not enough to support a family? Ordinary people can feed a whole household on two acres of poor land, so fifty dan a year is like having twenty-five acres. Isn't that enough?"

Zhang Yi couldn't help but laugh at Zhu Yuanzhang's stubbornness. Was this uncle so worried he'd brainwash his son?

He retorted, "Uncle, that kind of calculation misses the point. You're right in a way—a grown man eats only about six dan of rice a year, and children or women even less. Two parents, two children, plus supporting the elderly—that's about twenty dan a year, leaving a surplus..."

"But is serving as an official for the emperor just about surviving? Doesn't clothing cost money? Doesn't firewood for winter cost money? A county magistrate also has to maintain servants and staff—doesn't that cost money?"

Zhu Yuanzhang was thoroughly provoked. Was this just an exercise in contradiction?

"Should the emperor provide each official with a few beauties, too? Why did the previous dynasty fall? Was it not because local officials grew corrupt, and the people suffered? Is the purpose of office only to seek wealth and advancement? If so, how is the new dynasty any different from the old?"

Zhu Biao was startled. With his father's cunning, to let himself be angered over official salaries by Zhang Yi was almost unthinkable.

But Zhang Yi was not the least bit upset by Old Zhu's inexplicable rage—he even found it rather amusing. Here was a merchant, and yet he was actively defending the emperor?

"Uncle Huang, did I spend ten years studying in the cold, just for a life of drudgery?"

That soul-searching question only fanned Old Zhu's anger. The issue lay at the heart of ruling the realm—he was determined to argue this one out with the little rascal.

Zhu Biao stood by, drenched in cold sweat. He felt he had to intervene, or his furious father might reveal his own identity and behead Zhang Yi on the spot.

"A summer insect knows nothing of winter ice—your vision is pitifully small. You are a petty soul!"

Zhu Yuanzhang was now resorting to personal attacks. Yet Zhang Yi took no offense; everyone had their own perspective, and he understood why Zhu Yuanzhang looked down on him.

"Uncle Huang, you are a merchant with true sentiment. I admire that!"

Zhang Yi replied with a cheeky smile, "I'm only seven and a half—of course I'm a petty soul..."

Looking at his young face and that infuriating expression, Old Zhu drew a sharp breath, his anger finding no outlet.

"In any case, as far as I'm concerned, whoever wants to be a Zhu official can have it. I wouldn't take the job—not even if I were a dog!"