Chapter 10: Name Card

“You’re really acting strange! Didn’t you say he was definitely fake?”

After seeing off Wang Yang, Captain Xue flew into a rage, mimicking the scribe’s tone in a shrill voice:

“You even said, ‘Would I joke about something like this?’ Look what happened! Not only did you joke—you pulled off a colossal joke! If you want to die, don’t drag me down with you!”

The scribe wore a grimace: “I thought his uncle was a Palace Attendant! Who knew he was a Palace Attendant-in-Waiting? I heard there’s a Wang clan from Langya among the imperial Palace Attendants-in-Waiting—maybe he’s his second uncle.”

He paused, then added: “Could he have heard this rumor and is deliberately bluffing?”

He immediately shook his head: “Unlikely. ‘Advancing by mere association, rising to high office without effort,’ and ‘scholars and commoners don’t sit together’—no ordinary man could invent such phrases!”

Captain Xue tapped the desk: “I’m asking you—do you have any sense at all?”

The scribe muttered to himself a few more times, rubbing his temples: “Hard to say. Really hard to say. But better to believe it than dismiss it. If we truly offend the Langya Wang clan, you and I are finished...”

Captain Xue snapped: “Then what do you suggest?”

The scribe paced back and forth: “We have two options: one, report him through proper channels; two, verify his identity ourselves.”

“Then report him,” Captain Xue said, his head throbbing at the word “verify,” fearing another humiliating fiasco like before.

The scribe said: “Think carefully, Captain. If we report him, it goes to Huang, the Battalion Commander. He’ll come personally to collect him—and then we’ll never lay a finger on him again!”

Captain Xue sat upright: “Never lay a finger? Explain clearly—what do you mean?”

The scribe’s eyes gleamed: “This is the Langya Wang clan! A family you’d never encounter in a hundred lifetimes. Not even us—but even Huang, even the entire garrison commander of A Qu—no matter how hard they push, they’d never get to meet him. You and I, with no roots, no backing, will die stuck at this level. But if we can cling to this giant tree—the Langya Wang clan—”

Captain Xue’s eyes lit up, then dimmed: “But... but what if he doesn’t even notice us?”

“Normally, of course not. But now he’s in trouble—he needs our help.”

“Help? How? Send him to Jiankang to find his uncle? We don’t have that kind of power!” Captain Xue groaned.

The scribe waved his hand: “We can’t send him to the capital to find kin, but we can take him to Jiangling City.”

Captain Xue frowned: “You mean Jiangling? What good would that do?”

“I just came back from Jiangling. I heard a Langya Wang clan member named Wang Tai is staying there—a major figure! He once held high office in the Chancellor’s Office! His father and grandfather were both Three Ducal Ministers and Nine High Officials! His brother-in-law is even the Emperor’s younger brother, the Inspector of Nan Xu and Prince of Jiangxia, Xiao Feng! Our Prince, by lineage, should call him uncle!”

(Note: Regarding the use of “Prince,” see Chapter 15’s footnote.)

“Really?!” Captain Xue’s face twisted as if he’d just heard a state secret. “What post is he holding in Jiangling?”

“Not holding office—he’s here to recuperate, maybe he has property here. Either way, he doesn’t live in the new city; he’s in the old northwest quarter. Dozens of officials, scholars, and gentry from Jiangling have flocked to visit him—all turned away! Even the son of the Hedong Liu clan was refused entry! We can take this young wastrel there—if he steps into the Wang household, his status... Heihei .” The scribe grinned slyly.

Captain Xue looked baffled: “Status? This isn’t buying a slave or servant—why talk about status?”

The scribe smiled:

“It’s metaphorical, Captain! In Eastern Han, the famed scholar Li Ying was so revered that anyone who entered his hall was said to have ‘ascended the Dragon Gate’—and his status soared! If we can ‘ascend the Wang gate,’ the principle is the same. If Wang Tai thanks us for rescuing his kinsman from peril, even better!

Just a word to the provincial officials, and we’ll soar to the heavens! Besides, aren’t we supposed to verify his identity? We can take him there for the Langya Wang to confirm—wouldn’t he know instantly whether he’s real or fake? Saves us the trouble.”

Captain Xue chuckled: “Good, good! Educated people really are different!” But then he hesitated: “What if this young wastrel refuses to go?”

The scribe’s gaze turned cold: “Simple. If the fake monk dares not face the true Buddha, then we won’t go to Jiangling at all!”

After agreeing, the two went to find Wang Yang and told him a Langya Wang clan member was residing in Jiangling, promising to escort him there at dawn.

Wang Yang immediately grew wary. This scribe spoke sweetly—“inquire about kin,” “pay respects to relatives”—but wasn’t he just trying to verify his identity? If Wang Tai in Jiangling truly was Langya Wang, meeting him would expose the fraud.

Though his heart trembled, his face showed no fear—he readily agreed. Seeing Wang Yang’s calmness, the scribe and Captain Xue grew even more certain of his Langya Wang lineage, thrilled at the prospect of allying with such a top-tier clan.

The scribe immediately ordered ink and brush brought, bowing respectfully: “Please, Young Master, write your name card.”

A name card, also called a name slip, resembled a modern business card. In the Six Dynasties, visitors had to present one before entering a residence—this was called “tossing the card.”

Wang Yang had practiced calligraphy since childhood, copying master scripts without pause for over a decade. He began with Tang regular script, then moved to running and cursive, even won a modest award—writing was no challenge for him.

He also knew the standard format for Six Dynasties name cards, having even seen the actual name card unearthed from the tomb of Zhu Ran, a great general of Wu during the Three Kingdoms—so the format was familiar to him.

The scribe was excited—he’d long heard the Langya Wang clan produced peerless calligraphers, generation after generation. Finally, he’d get to see it firsthand!

Wang Yang picked up the brush. Seeing the scribe watching eagerly, he gathered his focus and wrote: “Wang Yang of the same lineage bows again, inquiring after your health; Langya, courtesy name Zhiyan.”

He poured every ounce of his skill into these dozen characters—the strokes were firm, steeped in ancient elegance!

Wang Yang was satisfied as he finished the final stroke. He glanced at the stunned scribe and thought: He’s clearly stunned by my calligraphy! Good, good—those years of copying weren’t wasted.

As he reviewed the card, he suddenly realized: the card followed period conventions, but his identity was fake. The Langya Wang genealogy certainly didn’t list him—and even if he met them, he’d never pass a conversation.

Why not add a little twist to the card?

Impress them now, and plant a seed for later explanations.

He picked up the brush again and added a short poem: “Homeland road stretches far, sleeves soaked with tears. Meeting, why ask names? Just tell them I’m safe.”

Wang Yang knew this altered version of Cencan ’s “Meeting a Messenger to the Capital” had lost all its spirit—but to build his cover, he had to sacrifice poetic artistry.

After the scribe left, he remained dazed. Captain Xue asked: “Old Wang, you’ve been staring blankly since you saw his name card—was it that good?”

Seeing no reply, Captain Xue raised his voice: “Old Wang!”

The scribe jumped, snapping back to reality.

“What’s wrong with you?!”

The scribe looked perplexed: “This young master seems well-read... but his writing...”

“What about his writing?” Captain Xue pressed.

“It’s just... ordinary!”

“What?!” Captain Xue clearly hadn’t expected this.

The scribe shook his head repeatedly, as if muttering to himself: “Ordinary. Extremely ordinary. Utterly ordinary! It’s so ordinary! Could it be... I just don’t appreciate it?”

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Note: The northwest quarter of Jiangling was the old city; the southwest was the new city built by Guan Yu. This layout remained largely unchanged into the Tang dynasty. The Yuanhe Junxian Tuzhi states: “The city originally had a central palace; the northern part was the old city, the southern part built by Guan Yu.” Interestingly, a provincial cultural relics bureau website cites the Tongdian saying: “The Han-era city was the old city, located in the northwest, extending southeastward. Guan Yu’s city was in the southwest; Huan Wen’s city incorporated both.” The website cites this alone—but multiple academic papers also cite it, creating a scholarly myth widely repeated. Even worse, some even claim a specific juan from the Tongdian—remarkable...

The Tongdian certainly contains no such sentence. This claim likely originates from Huang Shengzhang’s argument in “The Excavated Weights, Inscribed Earth Reports from Fenghuangshan Han Tombs, and Historical Geography Issues,” published in the collection Historical Geography and Archaeological Essays. The original misattributor probably confused Huang’s commentary with the Tongdian’s actual text.

Also, the term “Eastern Han” was already common in the Southern and Northern Dynasties. Writers favored parallel prose, so “Eastern Han” was often used as a paired phrase—for example, Xu Ling wrote in an imperial edict: “In the early Eastern Han, the Western Court suffered the Yongjia chaos”; Liu Xiaocho’s preface to the Zhaoming Taiziji says: “Serving the Four Dukes, praised in the Western Capital; selected at Changshou, famed in Eastern Han”; Jiang Yan’s “Memorial to the Grand Marshal Xiao” says: “Originating in the Western Qin, its influence spread through Eastern Han”—all such examples.