Chapter 59

What is identity?

Identity is the social positioning assigned by others and oneself.

Sometimes, merely being recognized by others and oneself is enough to fake or even become that identity.

For example, if several students in school uniforms call a passerby “teacher,” onlookers will assume the passerby is a school instructor.

Likewise, if two famous actors in an interview jointly refer to someone as “director,” viewers will believe that person is a director.

In Director Wang Yang’s performance, Liu Zhao and Xie Si Niangzi are both renowned actors, jointly testifying for Wang Yang, the unknown director.

This is far more credible than Wang Yang’s earlier attempt to prove his identity by himself while surrounded by soldiers in the woods.

Wang Yang sneered: “Don’t play that game! You secretly colluded with Jingling Wang and framed my uncle—”

“This humble officer swears on his life it’s untrue! I beg Young Master Wang to investigate!” Jiao Zheng’s voice rang loud, revealing a soldier’s bearing.

Wang Yang frowned, muttering to himself: “Impossible… I was told his surname was Jiao…”

Jiao Zheng’s mind flashed—he quickly asked: “May I ask, Young Master, who told you that I, Jiao Zheng, secretly reported Jingling Wang and framed your uncle?”

“It was Jingling…” Wang Yang pretended to nearly slip up, then caught himself: “How could I tell you that?”

Could it be someone from Jingling Wang’s circle?

But if it were someone from Jingling Wang’s circle, why would they pin this on me?

Is someone trying to harm me?

“Young Master, this humble officer is but a low-ranking official—how could I possibly have ties to Jingling Wang? And how would I dare frame your uncle? I beg Your Lordship to investigate and clear my name!”

Wang Yang thought a moment, then asked: “Besides you, who else in Jingzhou bears the surname Jiao?”

“This…” Jiao Zheng was caught off guard, his mind scrambling as he searched his memory:

“The West Office scribe Jiao Xun, the recorder Jiao Wenyang, the Rent Office clerk Jiao… Jiao Huang? No, not Jiao Huang—it was Jiao Kuang, I think?”

“There’s also a Jiao in the Registrar’s office, and one in the City Defense Office—a Duhu also bears that surname… and… there are too many officials in Jingzhou! If you count all the clerks in every bureau, I couldn’t possibly know them all!”

That’s precisely why I asked you—I don’t believe an office director knows every official across civil and military systems.

“Could it be a coincidence of names? Or perhaps they referred to his style, not his given name?” Wang Yang murmured at just the right volume, then asked:

“Jiao Zheng, what is your style name?”

Jiao Zheng lowered his head: “This humble officer has no style name.”

Names are names, but most people back then had only given names, no style names.

Only nobles, powerful clans, or those with scholarly lineage or extraordinary circumstances took style names. Jiao Zheng came from an ordinary farming family—how could he have one?

Even after becoming an officer and broadening his horizons, he dared not give himself a style name, for even if he did, he’d only invite ridicule—just as he admired the ox-drawn carts of scholar-officials but dared not buy one.

The divide between scholar and commoner was no idle saying.

“Then… perhaps I made a mistake? I’ll check again. I’m not familiar with Jingzhou’s names—bear with me. I’m leaving. No need to see me out.” Wang Yang offered a hollow apology, turned, and walked away with his hands behind his back.

How could Jiao Zheng let slip this chance to befriend the Langya Wang clan? His mind raced—how could he keep Wang Yang here? Suddenly, inspiration struck—he called out:

“Young Master, wait! I have a register at home listing many officials with the surname Jiao. Please sit briefly in my humble home while I retrieve them and show them to you one by one.”

He added quickly: “It won’t take long, I swear.”

“Very well,” Wang Yang agreed, feigning reluctance.

“Quick! Remove those pretty maids—replace them with ugly ones! The uglier, the better! Bring in those two coarse maids from outside too!”

“Master, what’s the logic here? This young master’s status is—”

“What do you, a woman, know? Where’s Yan’er? Where’s Yan’er? Get her to change into new clothes, apply fresh makeup, and come out to greet the guest!”

“Tell the kitchen not to serve vulgar dishes like big fish and meat—what has this noble young master not seen? Make them bring their finest dishes—local specialties… no, no, I’ll speak to them myself.”

The entire mansion bustled into action because of Wang Yang’s arrival.

During this time, the guard who had trailed Xie’s maid returned, confirming she was indeed from the Xie household. Jiao Zheng’s last doubt vanished, and he worked even harder.

“Young Master, this humble officer is truly at fault! I clearly remember the register was at home, but I can’t find it anywhere—perhaps I left it at the Military Office. The office is closed now. I’ll go retrieve it first thing tomorrow!”

“Young Master, it’s mealtime—please dine with us!”

“This humble officer feels uneasy—please grant me a chance to apologize!”

“Young Master, this way, please—mind the threshold.”

Wang Yang watched Jiao Zheng’s performance coldly—everything unfolded exactly as he had planned.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated everything—like why Jiao’s maids were all so… hard to describe…

Then again, Jiao Zheng’s own daughter seemed decent enough.

No!

Against these maids, she wasn’t just decent—she was outright beautiful!

Jiao Zheng’s food was indeed excellent, especially the “Duck Fry” and “Stuffed Roasted White Fish”—vibrant in color, fragrant, enough to make anyone’s mouth water; even in a modern restaurant, they’d be signature dishes.

Many believe ancient dishes, lacking MSG and modern seasonings, must be bland. But Chinese cuisine has deep roots; its subtleties are studied with exquisite precision.

Take the “Stuffed Roasted White Fish”—without MSG or oyster sauce, it was marinated in vinegar, secret fish sauce, pickled sour gourd (then called “gua zu”), scallions, ginger, and tangerine peel. When half-roasted, it was brushed with bitter wine and mixed fish sauce.

Too bad Wang Yang had to maintain his persona—he only took a few bites. Otherwise, with a bowl of rice, he could’ve devoured these dishes with pure delight.

During the meal, a servant announced that He, the steward of the county school, had arrived with a man bearing a fan for Young Master Wang.

Wang Yang ordered the man brought directly to the dining hall and told Jiao Zheng: “I’ve ordered something new—you’ve never seen anything like it.”

The fan arrived. Wang Yang opened it: the handle was lacquered black, the fan surface as white as snow—its construction matched his instructions perfectly. He closed it and said:

“Good. Make thirty more exactly like this—deliver them within six days. Payment will be settled together. If quality is consistent, your reward will be substantial.”

The fan shop owner had planned to demand a deposit, but seeing the county school’s prestige and the grandeur of this mansion, and hearing from He the steward that this was a Langya Wang clan scion and that the house belonged to the External Military Advisor, and remembering Wang Yang’s previous generosity, he said nothing about a deposit. Instead, he patted his chest and vowed to satisfy Young Master Wang completely.

Seeing the owner was “on the right track,” Wang Yang ordered a Jiao household servant to take him for drinks and some dishes.

The servant hesitated, glancing at Jiao Zheng, who immediately snapped: “You fool! Do as Young Master Wang commands!”