Chapter 99: Rarely See You Humiliated, Meet Liu Bowen

Zhang Yi was well aware of his own position; he certainly did not have the standing to defy an imperial edict. Strictly speaking, Zhu Yuanzhang had not truly intended to slight him. Allowing a Taoist priest to study at the Guozixue—a prestigious academy—was, in fact, a form of favor.

In the early Ming dynasty, many institutions were not yet fully established. The Guozixue, as known in later generations, would only formally emerge in the fifteenth year of the Hongwu reign. Even the main hall for the emperor’s sons to study was not set to open until the year’s end.

Under such circumstances, the Guozixue was already the finest and highest educational institution in the realm. With the imperial examinations yet to be instituted, gaining admission to the Guozixue was akin to placing one’s foot firmly on the path to an official career in the Ming bureaucracy.

This was unlike the Guozijian of later years, where some might purchase their way to become students. Admission to the Guozixue at this time required connections and local recommendations.

Zhang Yi was the second son of the Zhang family. With no hope of becoming a Celestial Master, the best he might achieve was a position akin to a ritual officer at Mount Longhu. The emperor’s offer was a chance to gain official rank and shed his Taoist status—a genuine opportunity.

Yet Zhang Yi had no desire to study. Beyond his personal aversion to Zhu Yuanzhang, who was the last person he wished to serve, he simply had no ambition for fame or rank. Even if he wished to study, the classical texts full of obscure characters and phrases repelled him, much less the prospect of learning them.

Still, no matter how reluctant, Zhang Yi dared not refuse. This was Zhu Yuanzhang, a man who killed without a second thought. Though he presently treated Zhang Yi’s elder brother well, the emperor’s favor could turn to ruthless dismissal in an instant.

Recalling Zhu’s mercilessness, Zhang Yi thought of another unfortunate student at the Guozixue—a typical example of the emperor’s harshness—who, as far as he knew, had yet to perish.

“Brother, I truly envy you. I would beg for such an opportunity if I could ever have it!” Zhang Zheng and Zhang Yuchu rarely saw Zhang Yi in such a pitiful state, his mouth hardly closing between complaints.

Yuchu even came over to console him, though his words only pierced deeper. Zhang Yi shot him a sour look, regretting not having seized his position as Celestial Master in the first place.

“By the way, I finished reading that ‘One Hundred Thousand Whys’ book. There were only a hundred questions though—when will you write the other 9,900?” Yuchu teased, causing Zhang Yi to groan. Who said there must be exactly one hundred thousand questions?

Flustered, Zhang Yi pried the book from Yuchu’s hand. “Not in the mood!”

Laughter echoed from the temple as Yuchu chuckled at Zhang Yi’s frustration, which only provoked an angry roar in response.

***

The next morning at dawn, Zhang Zheng personally laid out a Taoist robe for Zhang Yi.

“Really don’t want me to go with you?”

“Come on. You’re as blind as a bat in Yingtian Prefecture. It makes no difference whether I go with Brother Deng or not. You’d better send Big Brother back to Longhu Mountain and get on with your own business.”

Mentioning school, Zhang Yi’s face soured.

“Remember, don’t say things you shouldn’t—especially about your prophetic abilities!” Zhang Zheng warned anxiously.

Zhang Yi rolled his eyes. This was the third or fourth time his brother had said that. Was he really so careless? Aside from his family and the Huang father and son vouched for by Zhang Zheng, he had kept his talents well hidden.

“Got it!” Zhang Yi waved him off impatiently, bidding farewell as he set off on his miserable journey to school.

***

At that moment, in the heart of Yingtian Prefecture, two elderly men watched the students pass by, their faces unreadable.

Each held a book; one read with keen interest while the other gazed thoughtfully at the students, seemingly lost in thought.

As the number of students gradually dwindled, the clear voices of reading echoed faintly from a distant schoolhouse.

The elder engrossed in his book sighed impatiently beside the absent-minded one.

“Liu Ji, you’ve seen everyone you need to see. Aren’t you going to leave?”

The daydreaming man was none other than the Vice Censor-in-Chief and Grand Historian Liu Ji—known later as Liu Bowen.

The reader grumbled, “I don’t know what your problem is. Right after court, you come here just to watch over Kong Ne. Now that you’ve seen him, aren’t you satisfied? If you want to see him, why not just go to the Kong residence?”

Liu Ji smiled in reply, “The Kong residence is a prison assigned by His Majesty to Kong Kejian. If I go, won’t I suffer? Brother Cunren, do you really begrudge my well-being so much?”

“Then why go see Kong Ne at all? Everyone knows the emperor harbors displeasure against the Kong family. Kong Ne is merely a hostage sent by them. There’s no need for you, Liu Ji, to watch over him personally.”

Liu Ji responded, “Just an ordinary hostage? Brother Cunren, you’re mistaken. If the emperor only wanted a hostage, the former Saintly Duke’s presence in Yingtian would suffice. Why trouble a child further? Moreover, sending him here shows a desire to win favor, to show kindness, and to nurture the next generation of the Kong family—at least to turn their hearts toward the Ming.”

“Kong Kejian and Kong Xixue, father and son, are too deeply influenced by the previous dynasty. The emperor cannot trust them. But the bloodline of the former Saintly Duke cannot be casually replaced. Naturally, he must be held close. My visit is to see whether this boy is worth...”

“Worth what?” The other elder set down a book on the table—a volume titled The Supreme Treatise on the Subtle Methods of the Microcosmic World.

Liu Bowen’s eye twitched slightly but he said nothing.

“You people love intrigue too much. Fine, I won’t ask anymore. I won’t be working here for long anyway—just going back to enjoy retirement. If it weren’t for the sudden trouble with Old Kong, you would have dissuaded me from tempting fate; I’d have already resigned my post as Guozixue ritual officer to His Majesty…”

The elder spoke casually, revealing his identity: Xu Cunren, the ritual officer of the Nanjing Guozixue.

He and Liu Bowen were fellow countrymen and naturally close within official circles.

Liu Bowen had hoped to cultivate influence by befriending Xu Cunren at court, but the latter had little interest in power. Since pledging loyalty to Zhu Yuanzhang, he had quietly devoted himself to teaching at the Guozixue, rising from scholar to ritual officer.

The Hongwu Emperor trusted him greatly. He had also instructed palace children, and though his career was just beginning, he was already speaking of retirement.

Faced with such indifference, Liu Bowen found little way to persuade him, so he turned the conversation back to the book.

“Why are you reading this apocryphal scripture?”

After circulating in Yangzhou Prefecture, The Supreme Treatise on the Subtle Methods of the Microcosmic World had gained wide popularity north and south.

The Zhang family, leveraging inoculation methods and this scripture, had gained immense prestige. Commoners recited its verses, believing it could invoke the protection of the Supreme.

Yet learned men like Liu Bowen regarded it as a crude forgery with too many flaws to merit serious study.

“The scripture may be fabricated, but the knowledge within is priceless. Using it to deduce inoculation methods, Zhang Zheng has earned merit that places him in the Taoist hierarchy no lower than Ge Hong. Within the Zhang family’s Celestial Masters, only Zhang Daoling outranks him... Whether he authored this text or a greater master did, its contents are indeed fascinating.”

“Hmph, words are cheap,” Liu Bowen scoffed, unwilling to flatter the Zhang family.

Xu Cunren saw through his conflicted thoughts and smiled.

“I’m not wasting breath on you. Go tend to your official duties.”

“Since you’re both here, I might as well check on the Zhang child—the second son of Zhang Zheng, named Zhang Yi. That name’s odd: one is ‘Zheng’ (normal), the other ‘Yi’ (abnormal). They might be destined rivals!”

Liu Bowen joked, then soberly reflected, “I must report Zhang Zheng. The emperor’s granting his son a place at the Guozixue is a tremendous favor, yet he dares to be late?”

As they spoke, two figures hurried toward them—two Taoist priests.

“Brother Deng, I’m going to die because of you! If you don’t know the way, don’t lead me astray!”

The two were Zhang Yi and his senior disciple Deng Zhongxiu.

Deng's face flushed red at Zhang Yi’s scolding.

Neither knew the route to the Guozixue. Though Deng often accompanied Zhang Yi on errands, he was unfamiliar with the city’s layout. He had confidently led Zhang Yi through Yingtian Prefecture but had taken the wrong path, failing to find the academy.

Zhang Yi was deeply frustrated. He had no desire to attend school, and now he was late on his very first day. Such tardiness could be a grave offense if reported to the palace, marking him as disrespectful and leading to severe consequences.

This was why Zhang Yi loathed proximity to Zhu Yuanzhang: the emperor obsessed over trivial matters and, under his rule, one might starve three days and suffer nine meals, or even lose one’s life.

“There, perhaps over there. Let’s ask someone.”

Zhang Yi and Deng simultaneously spotted Liu Bowen and Xu Cunren and hurried over.

“Esteemed sirs, are you teachers at the Guozixue?”

Zhang Yi bowed respectfully.

Liu Bowen and Xu Cunren appraised him silently, certain this was the young Taoist from Longhu Mountain.

“No,” Liu Bowen shook his head.

Xu Cunren smiled, “You’re but a humble Taoist—what brings you to the Guozixue?”

“Sir, I am Zhang Yi, son of Zhang Zheng, a True Man of Longhu Mountain in Jiangxi. The emperor sent me here to study…”

“Zhang Yi, what time is it now? Why are you late?”

“Um, I didn’t know the way and got lost…” Zhang Yi replied awkwardly.

Xu Cunren laughed heartily, grabbed his book from the table, and stood.

“Come with me.”

Zhang Yi glanced between Xu Cunren’s retreating back and Liu Bowen.

Liu Bowen grumbled, “I’m just an idle bystander. If you go with that old man, that’s on you…”

Unfazed, Zhang Yi saluted Liu Bowen.

“Well then, sir, I’ll take my leave!”

Saying so, he trotted after Xu Cunren.

“At least he’s polite,” Liu Bowen remarked, his expression softening somewhat.

“Grandpa, are you from the academy?” Zhang Yi asked after catching up.

Xu Cunren chuckled, “I’m just a gatekeeper here. Don’t get too familiar. You’re late, so your teacher will punish you—don’t expect me to plead your case!”

“Heh, I’m used to punishment. No need to trouble you. By the way, are you the Xu Cunren who’s the ritual officer of the Guozixue?”

“Do you know him?”

“No, no, just asking.”

“Still alive, huh…”

Zhang Yi murmured to himself. The old man ahead stiffened, turned, and fixed a sharp gaze on him.

“Who did you say is dead?”

“I said nothing!”

Startled, Zhang Yi smiled and hastened to explain.

(End of chapter)