Chapter 20: The Li-si (Part 2)

The black-haired man and the li-si both froze; Xiao Wu burst out laughing.

Li-si Zhang flew into a rage, pointing at Wang Yang: “Who are you?! How dare you mock me?!”

The black-haired man hurriedly said: “Li-si, this is the young master of the Langya Wang clan.”

“I don’t care what kind of master you are... you said who? Langya Wang?!” Li-si broke off mid-sentence, staring at the black-haired man in disbelief.

Little Xiao Wu sniffed: “Li-si, you haven’t bowed to Young Master Wang yet! My father and I both bowed this morning, and when Master Du San came yesterday, he bowed before leaving!”

Wang Yang thought: This clever little brat is sharp—excellent at bluffing. She spins lies as easily as breathing; if she teamed up with me to impersonate someone, she’d be far more effective than this black-haired man.

After all, few people expect such a young child to lie. Even more skillful is that her lies are half-truths, woven into real facts, making them far more deceptive.

The black-haired man silently cursed his daughter for speaking nonsense—if Master Du San heard this, it would be another disaster.

Inside, Li-si Zhang was shaken to his core—he had been puzzled why Master Du San made such a commotion, took ink and paper, and then left immediately; now he realized a great person was here!

But then he reconsidered: this man dressed so plainly—where was the air of a scholar-gentry? And how could the noble young master of the highest clan, Langya Wang, come to this backwater without a single attendant?

But if he weren’t from Langya Wang, why had Master Du San retreated?

Li-si Zhang couldn’t decide whether to believe Xiao Wu’s claim about bowing; he stood there, bewildered and uncertain.

Wang Yang coldly rebuked: “Superstition and nonsense—Confucius never spoke of such things. Local taboos border on witchcraft. Meng Changjun was also born on the fifth day of the fifth month, yet his family thrived and his name endured for millennia. Thus, the taboo against double-fives is mere superstition, with no actual ill effect. Such nonsense is acceptable only when muttered by ignorant peasants. But you, as a village chief responsible for households—if you join in this foolishness, what kind of example will you set? How can the court’s civilizing mission, to instruct the people and transform customs, amount to empty words?”

Li-si Zhang broke into a cold sweat, bowing low, muttering obediently, “Yes, yes.”

He didn’t truly believe Wang Yang’s words—no ordinary man could speak like this. Even if he weren’t from Langya Wang, he must be someone of importance. And he had even invoked the court’s civilizing authority—who would dare contradict him?

Little Xiao Wu watched as Wang Yang’s few words crushed Li-si Zhang’s arrogance; her big eyes gleamed faintly.

Wang Yang spoke not only to defend Xiao Wu but because Master Du San had borrowed ink and paper from the li-si’s home yesterday, and from the li-si’s speech, Wang Yang judged him educated. He needed to intimidate the li-si first, so he could ask questions only a learned man would understand.

“Tell me—does Jingzhou have a commandery school?”

A commandery school was a government-established local institution, part of the official education system alongside the National Academy in the capital (formerly called the Taixue).

The li-si hurriedly replied: “Yes, there are two—both within Jingzhou city.”

“Two?” Official schools were usually one per region—why two in Jingzhou?

“One is the original local commandery school; the other is the ‘Wang Hall Academy,’ established when Grand Marshal Prince of Yuzhang governed Jingzhou.”

Wang Yang noticed that when the li-si mentioned “Grand Marshal Prince of Yuzhang,” he bowed his hands toward heaven with deep reverence. Though curious about this Prince of Yuzhang’s identity, he dared not ask—it would reveal his ignorance.

“Who are the deans of these two schools?”

The dean was the head of the school, equivalent to today’s principal.

“The dean of the local commandery school is Director Liu Zhao; the dean of Wang Hall Academy is Director Liu Tan. The young master should know them.” Li-si Zhang stole a glance at Wang Yang.

“Why should I know them?” Wang Yang asked.

“Director Liu Tan comes from the Hedong Liu clan—like you, a high-ranking immigrant surname. Surely you must know him?” Li-si Zhang ventured.

The Hedong Liu clan was also a top southern aristocratic family, slightly inferior to Langya Wang but still formidable—especially since Liu Tan’s father was the famed Duke Liu Lao! Only if this boy’s father were the late Chancellor Wang Jian could he be compared. But Wang Jian died last year, Li-si Zhang thought inwardly.

Wang Yang didn’t grasp the hidden meaning behind Li-si Zhang’s question about recognition—but whatever the man was probing, it had to stop now.

He raised an eyebrow slightly and said coldly: “Answer what I ask. Don’t speak like Du San—say things you shouldn’t, only to annoy.”

Du... Du San?!?!

Li-si Zhang’s legs went weak—he nearly collapsed!

Even the black-haired man was startled!

Master Du San had powerful backing—rumored to be a high official from the capital; even police officers treated him with utmost respect. Now someone dared call him “Du San”?

The little boy didn’t understand—compared to Master Du San being called “Du San,” what terrified him more was Xiao Wu’s glare earlier. He clung to his grandfather’s clothes, refusing to look at her, wanting only to go home.

Li-si Zhang pushed his grandson’s hand away and bowed tremblingly: “Yes, yes, I spoke foolishly—please, young master, forgive me.”

Wang Yang continued: “What classics do Liu Zhao and Liu Tan study?”

“Study” in ancient times meant to research.

Li-si Zhang dared not speak further and answered honestly: “They both study the Book of Documents.”

Wang Yang felt a surge of relief: the “Four Books and Five Classics”—the Four Books were a Southern Song term; before that, the supreme Confucian classics were the Five: the Book of Songs, the Book of Documents, the Book of Rites, the Book of Changes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals.

Of the Five, his weakest was the Book of Rites—if it wasn’t the Book of Rites, half the battle was won.

He asked: “Which school of the Book of Documents do they study?”

The Book of Documents had multiple schools—“which school” meant “which school of thought.”

“Which... which school? I... I don’t know.”

Wang Yang thought a moment, then said: “Go. Remember—treat your villagers well. Don’t stir up trouble.”

Li-si Zhang bowed and withdrew; Wang Yang called him back: “Bring me paper and ink when you return—I need to write.”

“I’ll fetch them at once.”

Li-si Zhang pulled his grandson away quickly; the little boy suddenly said: “Grandpa, she hit me first!”

“How dare you say that! If you cause trouble again, I’ll beat you first!”

He spoke harshly, but suddenly realized: Wasn’t the issue supposed to be who started the fight? Why didn’t he press further on who struck first? Instead, he seized on the “double-fives” taboo to lecture me, and now the whole fight was ignored—yet somehow, it became my fault! This isn’t fair!

But then he understood: What reason can you expect from a scholar-gentry? I’ve lost my mind!